


The Party's In My Head

by artemis13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis13/pseuds/artemis13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is MIA, and no one knows where he is. Derek tracks him down. Go go Clubbing!Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Party's In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by _Party In My Head_ by September, which for some reason was stuck in my head for ten hours straight at work the other night. All I could think was, "Clubbing Stiles!" This was the result.

It hadn't taken Derek long to pick up on Stiles' scent. The light trace of cinnamon and earth mixed with medication was a dead giveaway. He knew he was close when the scent started to intensify. But then it became muddled, mixed with a hundred other smells as well as a cacophony of sound and lights. "Inferno," Derek drawled quietly, scowling.

Everyone had been worried about Stiles. He had been distant lately, seeming to withdraw into his own little world. More so than usual, at any rate. But they hadn't thought much of it until the teenager had disappeared for three days, without so much as a note or a phone call. Scott was all but useless in his ability to track people down, so Derek decided he'd make the attempt at finding the wayward kid. And he'd tracked him to....a club? Granted, they were a solid two hundred miles away from Beacon Hills, but this? This was where Stiles disappeared to?

"Gonna kill him," Derek muttered as he shoved through the throngs of people, trying to find the boy. The occasional club-goer stopped him to try and dance, but Derek made no effort to disguise his glare of disgust, sending each of them fleeing quickly.

The smell of sweat, alcohol, and various types of drugs made finding the kid almost impossible. His was a scent that was quickly subdued by the collective mass, and it left the werewolf out of sorts. He'd all but given up when a warm pair of arms encircled his waist. "Hey there, hot stuff."

Derek spun around and leveled a glare at Stiles, who seemed surprised for a moment before his face returned to that... _look_. "If it isn't Derek Hale. What brings you here?" he asked with a smile, making no effort to remove his arms from the older man.

"I came here to find you," he replied, his eyes narrowing further. Stiles didn't look like himself. The usually geek-chic kid had done a one-eighty in the fashion department. Gone was the band t-shirt, replaced by a sleeveless vest that just happened to be left unzipped. His loose jeans gave way to tight, fitted denim with assorted rips and cuts in far too-convenient places. Practicality was thrown to the wind as four different belts of varying sizes and lengths encircled his waist, dipping low on his thighs. And how many different necklaces were necessary for something like this, really? And were the hollows of his eyes always that dark, or was that....eye shadow?

"That's so sweet of you," Stiles said, a tinge of sarcasm coating his words as he noticed the man giving him the once-over.

"We're leaving," Derek stated matter-of-factly, disentangling himself Stile's grip and grabbing his wrist.

Stiles easily yanked himself free of Derek's hold, earning a quirked brow from the older man. "No thanks, man. I'm good. You go ahead."

"I didn't give you a choice," Derek growled.

"Yeah, aware of that," he said with that same smile, before he turned to walk away.

Without another word, and far faster than should be possible, Derek had latched onto one of Stiles' belts before spinning him quickly and slamming him into the wall. "We. Are. Leaving," the werewolf ground out slowly, articulating every word.

Derek hadn't noticed the bouncer that was advancing on them. Though Stiles was in a less than favorable position, he didn't care to get the older man thrown out just because he was doing the only thing he knew how to do. Reacting quickly, he wrapped his legs around Derek's waist and twined his fingers through his dark locks, tugging hard and eliciting a surprised gasp from the man. "The bouncer saw the whole rough and tumble thing, so unless you wanna get tossed out, just go with it," Stiles breathed into his ear with a grin, ghosting his tongue along the shell of the man's ear.

Derek froze, not entirely sure what to do. He knew that Stiles couldn't hear the slight uptick of his heart as he practically molested him, but it worried him none the less. "Stiles," he managed finally, willing his voice back to that mix of danger and annoyance.

"Derek," Stiles purred in return, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Derek faltered again at the sight of the Cheshire cat grin plastered to Stiles' face. It was completely unlike him, and it was more than a bit unnerving. And intriguing. Stiles could hardly be defined as sexual. He wasn't unattractive by any stretch, but to think of him as sultry or seductive would have anyone laughing. But right now, there was no other way to describe him. He stared at Derek in a way that simply seethed with sexuality.

Derek was no fool. He knew the boy harbored feelings for him. And it wasn't exactly a secret that Derek felt more for Stiles than anyone else in their ragtag little group. But it was never spoken of nor acted upon -- due largely in part to the glaring age difference. It wasn't the best decision for a man of nearly twenty-three years of age to be shacked up with a kid of seventeen. Beyond that, it just wasn't what Derek needed right now. He'd assumed the power of Alpha status, and was busy trying to sort matters out where that was involved. He didn't need a relationship to cloud things up.

Then there was the fact that Stiles was male. It wasn't a problem, per se, but it certainly wasn't something that Derek had ever imagined would happen. He was blind to sexuality in general, never caring about such things as gay and straight, but he always identified as being straight himself. So when he found himself pining over another man -- _a boy,_ he reminded himself -- he didn't know what to think. Perhaps that whole pansexuality thing wasn't as big a crock as he initially thought.

"Stiles, get off," he managed, loosening his grip on the boy.

"Oh, believe me, dude, I'd love to," he said with a positively wicked grin, making no effort to remove himself despite the fact that the bouncer seemed satisfied that it was just a couple of horny guys and had gone about his business elsewhere.

"Don't," Derek cautioned, shaking himself of Stiles' octopus-like grip and stepping away from him.

"Don't what? Get off? Trust me, man, there's no way _that_ 'll happen. I know you, you're too..whatever the hell you are to make a move," he stated with an arched brow. "You're either pissed off, or mopey...conflicted or something. Everyone sees it. Hell, I'm not an idiot. And you _know_ ," he continued as he threaded his fingers through the belt loops of Derek's jeans, "that there's nothing more I'd enjoy than having you fuck me straight through a mattress. Or a wall." He quietened down for a moment as though lost in thought. "Or floor, stairwell, shower, anything really," he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "But, you're too busy denying it. And I'm not gonna sit around like some sort of lovesick teenager wondering, 'Why won't he just love me?!'" He gave a derisive snort, shaking his head. "Fuck that. I want you; more than anything, actually. But I'm also not gonna sit by while you wrestle with the idea of what _you_ want. You figure it out, you let me know. Until then," he trailed off, relinquishing his hold on the man, "let me live."

Before Derek could react, Stiles placed a chaste kiss to his lips, winking at him before mingling back in with the crowd.

Derek's mind was reeling. This wasn't the same kid that they all knew. There was no way Stiles -- _Stiles, of all people!_ \-- was that straight-forward or that damn seductive. The older man had never figured Stiles the type to just be able to come out and say those types of things. But telling Derek without a hint of embarrassment that he wanted him, in no uncertain terms, to fuck him until he couldn't see straight was not what Derek had been prepared for. No, if he were to prepare for that, he'd have worn looser-fitting jeans, because holy _god_ these were constricting as hell after that little exchange.

He was torn from his thoughts as he felt a vibration in his pocket. Muttering quietly to himself, he fished the phone out of his too-tight jeans and flipped it open, eyes scanning quickly over the text he'd received.

**Any luck? No one here has heard anything.**

Derek thought for a moment before replying. Yes, he had found Stiles, and _technically_ no worse for the wear -- he could tell by his scent that Stiles hadn't been using anything or getting drunk and going home with someone else. That thought sent a spike of jealousy coursing through his system, even though it shouldn't have. Stiles was right, after all. Derek didn't own him, and they weren't dating, so Stiles remaining exclusive wasn't something Derek could or should expect. Except he did.

But if he told them he'd found him, they would expect them to be back quickly. Derek didn't see that happening, not given the circumstances. Stiles had no inclination of leaving with Derek, he had made that obvious.

**No, but close.**

He knew that Scott would probably follow up with something, but he didn't care to deal with anything else from him, so he simply pocketed his cell and began weaving through the crowd again, trying to reacquire his target. Thankfully Stiles was a bit easier to find since he was dancing in a damn cage for all to see...

Derek stopped mid-step as he caught sight of the boy, his mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara. The electronic thumping was drowned out as he focused on the younger man swaying rhythmically. A guy dancing in a cage should _not_ be as erotic as this was, but Stiles was really getting into it. It only worsened when he caught sight of Derek, that smile gracing his pouty lips once more as he continued to dance. His hands roamed down his sweat-slicked chest as he swayed, his head thrown back to bare his throat to the werewolf -- something he knew would be more enticing to him than to any normal person.

Derek could feel the telltale hum behind his eyes of the glow that accompanied them during a shift. Stiles was casting some sort of spell on him, like one of the Sirens of myth. _Why the hell couldn't this have just been normal Stiles? If he were just his typical, awkward self this would have been a simple in and out procedure._ Derek cursed himself for not scripting his inner monologue a bit more carefully, as he was now thinking about other in and out procedures with the boy. _Focus, damn it._

"Stiles!"

The boy seemed content to just watch him as his hands continued to roam down his body, his fingers dancing across his thighs as he dipped low before arching his back and rising slowly.

Derek's patience was wearing thin and it was all he could do not to snatch the boy up and make a show out of removing him. "Stiles, listen to me," he said as he stepped up to the cage and rested a hand on one of the bars, "we need to go. Everyone is worried about you."

Stiles just continued to smile, singing along with the blaring music. "I don't care if the whole club is dead 'cause the party's in my head, the party's in my head.."

"Stiles!" he yelled once more.

The teenager rolled his eyes as he dipped down to eye level with the Alpha. "Look, man, I know you think that you're intimidating and all that crap, but you don't scare me. I know what you're capable of, but I also know that you've been hiding a hard-on for me for months now. So even though you're capable, you're not, ya know?"

Derek could only glare. He had a point. He was far more threatening than he was dangerous, at least as far as Stiles was concerned. Yeah, he still had a penchant for slamming him into walls and whatnot, but it was his own twisted way of showing affection. And Stiles knew that. _Fucker.._

Stiles swung gracefully out of the cage and dropped to the floor in front of Derek, placing a hand on his chest while his forearm rested on the man's shoulder. "I'm glad that you care enough to come find me and all that, but I also wish that you'd been more selfish about it. I wanted you to _want_ to find me."

"I did," Derek countered.

"No, you wanted to find me because you felt _responsible_ , not because you wanted to find _me_."

"I don't see a difference," he said flatly.

"No, ya don't. And that's the problem." Stiles sighed as he leaned his forehead against Derek's chest, happy that the man made no effort to pull away. "Derek, I meant it. What I said earlier, I mean. It isn't just some stupid crush, either. I love you. Not, ya know, I love you, bro. But like, I want to wake up next to you for the rest of the foreseeable future love you." Stiles looked back up at Derek who had a very unfamiliar look on his face, something of a mixture between confusion, longing, and fright.

"Stiles..you know I can't..." he mumbled quietly, unsure what to say.

"I know you _don't_ ," he replied, shaking his head, "but there's no reason you can't."

"You're too young, Stiles."

The younger man simply shrugged. "And that's why I left."

"You can't punish your friends because of me, Stiles. Quit being selfish and think about this. Your dad is worried sick, and has everyone within a hundred miles looking for you."

"Good thing I'm about _two_ hundred miles away, huh?"

Derek growled at the boy, his voice dangerously low. "This isn't some sort of joke. People who care about you are scared that you're dead in a gutter somewhere."

Stiles sighed, his smile faltering a bit for the first time. "I get that. And I feel bad about it, but I had to get away."

"Without a phone call?"

"Without anything," he replied, his smile all but disappearing. "I told you, Derek, I won't sit around like a lovesick kid. But that doesn't mean it isn't hard to be around you. You're always there, lurking somewhere. I don't have your freakish werewolf sense of smell or anything, but it doesn't mean I don't know your scent. I've noticed you outside of my bedroom some nights, just watching. I've not said anything, or let on that I know you were there, because I was _hoping_ that one day you'd get your shit straight and just make a damn move. But you never do," he continued. "And having me around during your little training sessions, casting glances at me that you _think_ I don't notice -- but I do -- while running around nearly-naked. How long do you think you could keep that up before I got tired of the bullshit?" Stiles sighed, nervously running a hand across his buzzed scalp.

"Stiles," Derek began.

"Ya know, save it," he said with a hint of irritation, cutting the man off. "I'm not gonna listen to you rationalize all of this shit. I'm done with it. Just go back home, tell everyone I'm fine and I'll be back in a few days," he said, turning to leave.

Derek took hold of the boy's wrist, determined not to let him run again.

Stiles sighed as he turned to face Derek yet again. "Please," he managed weakly, his confident, sexy facade having completely vanished by this point. "Just let me go, Derek. I can't deal with this anymore."

"You had your say, now I get mine," the older man said, his eyes softening a bit. He felt bad for Stiles. It was one thing to think that someone you cared about didn't return your affections. But to know that they did and refused to act on it was something different entirely. "We've established the fact that I feel...things. Things that I shouldn't feel because of the fact that you're only seventeen."

"Before you even go any further with that," Stiles interrupted, "I want you to think about something. We're about six years apart, give or take. If I were eighteen and you were twenty-four, would we be having this discussion?"

Derek stared at him, unwilling to answer because he _knew_ that it would be a non-issue if Stiles were of consenting age. But if he acknowledged that, it would open a brand new can of worms, and it would make this situation even more difficult than it already was.

"That's what I thought," Stiles said, practically reading the man's mind. "I know that you're worried about my safety and everything, and that whole stat rape thing. But Derek, who has to know?"

"It wouldn't be right to keep something like that under wraps."

"But it _is_ right to keep something like werewolves under wraps, right?"

Derek stared at him quietly for what seemed like and eternity. "You know that's not even close to the same thing," he grumbled eventually.

"Isn't it? Werewolves are actually _dangerous_ , if you weren't aware. Where's the danger in us actually being _us_? People are out at night all the time, never knowing that they could have their throats ripped out, as you once so eloquently put it. What the hell kind of threat does us having sex pose? I mean, yeah, you've got those douches that seem to think guys railing other guys is ushering in the apocalypse, but how likely is that, really?" Stiles couldn't help the smirk that played across his face at the thought. "Guess I'd have a bit of egg on my face if we actually did end up having sex and the world blew up, huh?"

Derek felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as well. He could never remain angry with Stiles. He put on the front for everyone else, but Stiles knew that underneath the gritty exterior he was actually quite the softy, and enjoyed Stiles' bizarre sense of humor more than anyone. And it wasn't as though Stiles didn't have a point. Yeah, technically Stiles was underage, but it was by less than a year. And since the actual age difference itself wasn't anything too extraordinary, was it really that bad?

Stiles sighed as he leaned against the man once more, resting his cheek on Derek's chest. "I just wish that you understood how much I care about you. I know I'm not the most attractive guy, and I'm certainly not as strong as you or Scott...or Jackson...or anyone, really. But--"

"Stiles, don't even," Derek cut him off, pushing him away slightly to look him in the eyes. "First of all, if you could see you right now, and how you've been acting, you'd throw the good-looks thing out the window. And I don't care about you being a human. It has nothing to do with that. At all. You being who you are is..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I wouldn't have the feelings for you that I do if you were anyone but who you are. You're interesting, annoying, lively, caring, clumsy... You're you, and that's the guy I care about."

Stiles sighed, staring into Derek's eyes. "I hate that you can be so damn disarming when you want to be."

"It's a gift," Derek shrugged.

"I'm just so sick of this dance. I just want...more. I know that you think I'm just a stupid, hormonal teenager, but I want something more between us."

"Something more like.." Derek mused quietly, his fist curling around the multiple necklaces Stiles wore before tugging him forward, hard, bringing him flush against the werewolf's body. "This?"

Stiles had nearly yelped as Derek yanked him forward, but the rough contact more than made up for the brief sense of vertigo. "It's a start, I suppose," he finally managed, suppressing a smile.

"Or," he continued quietly, dipping his head low and whispering softly into Stiles' ear, "was it something like me telling you all the ways I planned on making you scream my name?"

It was Stiles' turn to feel his mouth go dry. "Y-yeah, something like that.."

"Because trust me, you will. By the time I'm done with you, the only words you'll know are, 'Derek, harder, please,' and, 'more.'"

Stiles felt his knees going weak just at the mere thought of what Derek had planned. That deep voice was like honey in his ear, and the whispered promises were going straight to his groin.

Derek pulled back to look into the younger man's eyes, smirking to himself at the glaze of lust that coated those brown orbs. Resting a hand on the small of Stiles' back, he gently thrust his hips against Stiles', making no effort to hide his arousal from the smaller man. Stiles' eyes slid shut as a throaty moan worked its way out of his chest.

"You willing to quit being a thorn in my side and get outta here?" he asked quietly, nipping at Stiles' ear playfully.

"God, yes," he groaned in reply.


End file.
